More Myself Than I Am
by Darveymylove
Summary: AU: Harvey was never the biggest fan of strip clubs, so when it comes to visiting one for Marcus' Bachelor party, he's less than unimpressed, that is until he meets a certain red head working in the club, and a series of unexpected events unfold from there...
1. Chapter 1

**_Hi everyone! So this hugeee story came from a tweet from Ali, that inspired us both. Originally I didn't intend on writing this as I thought she planned to and shared the ideas with her, but we decided to both write our own versions as we both liked the other's ideas so much and wanted to read both!!_**

**_This story is completed but as it's so long I decided to post it in two installments rather than one large oneshot. So here's part one, I hope you enjoy! X_**

————

It may come as a surprise to many, considering his trademark womanizing reputation but Harvey Specter doesn't do strip clubs.

He just doesn't see the appeal, maybe because he's never had to work for the attention of women anyway, always finding he has his pick of the litter on any evening spent on the town. So why bothering paying when the same comes your way free of charge?

But when Marcus, his younger and soon-to-be married brother asked him to organize his bachelor party in the city, a strip club seemed like the most obvious option. So, he made a reservation for dinner at Marcus' favorite restaurant in the city and booked them a private performance at one of the most popular clubs in New York, dreading the day he'd have to set foot inside, accompanied by Marcus' rowdy friends no less.

The dinner was just about bearable, each and every member of the party finding some way to piss him off or irritate him before dessert. Harvey spending most of the meal in silence thinking about how he wished his dad could still be here for moments like this, how this night would've been one to look forward to, were Gordon Specter still around to experience it. A part of him resented Marcus, for choosing to get married so soon after the unexpected death of their late father, although Gordon had never been as close to his younger son, as he had been to Harvey.

So, he sat at the end of the table, nursing his scotch and laughing along to jokes he didn't really hear, wondering if this night, which he should be enjoying, would ever end, so he could return home, to his hollow home, alone.

A little over an hour later they departed from the restaurant, the crowd of young intoxicated men eager to get to the main event, stumbling down the street as they decided to walk the short distance to their next destination. Harvey hangs to the back of the group, rolling his eyes as they slur and trip over themselves. Until finally, they arrive at the front of the club.

Stepping inside, he takes in his surroundings, as a hostess dressed in a figure hugging black mini-dress leads them to their assigned area. It's dark, the lighting similar to that of nightclub, the air swimming with artificial smoke, clouding his vision and making him second guess how much he had to drink at the restaurant. The venue seems fairly empty for a Friday night, with most of the private performance stages unoccupied, a small crowd of brooding men seated in front of the main stage, leering at the dancers and nursing their drinks.

Harvey resigns himself to a chair at the back, as they settle into their party area, unbuttoning another of his shirt buttons as the heat begins to get to him. They order another round of drinks, and just as the hostess is strutting away, the curtains pull back, spotlights dancing in crisscross motions around the room, the group cheering and whistling as a silhouetted character makes her way out before them, dragging a wooden chair along behind her.

A sultry voice emits from the speakers as the spotlights illuminate their first performer, "Welcome Specter party, allow me to introduce you to your entertainment for this evening, Skye," the woman drops herself down onto the chair in a seductive manner, lips parted and long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, covering more skin than the lingerie she was clad in, next a woman with a brown bob and sleek fringe made her way across the floor, "next up, we have Bambi," the voice came again, introducing this second girl, the group whistling and jeering loudly, while Harvey remained silent, watching on with a blank expression.

He was contemplating taking a trip to the restroom, just to pass the time, but as he stood to leave a third figure graced the stage, stepping up onto the podium with both arms raised above her head, "And last but not least, meet; Scarlet."

The spotlights travelled up the length of her creamy legs, porcelain skin almost glowing in the amplified stage lights, his eyes followed suit, gradually growing wider as he trailed his way past the pale blue slip and towards her face.

His jaw nearly hit the floor.

Fiery tendrils of curly red hair fell to just below her collar bone, blood stained lips pursed, her hazel eyes seemed to flash a striking green as the lights moved around her, igniting the constellations of freckles visible over the extent of her toned body.

Their eyes met in a fleeting gaze, causing him to take a sharp inhale of breath, a small seductive smile playing on her lips as she looked him up and down, before returning her attention to the boisterous crowd before her, and beginning her performance.

And suddenly, Harvey Specter no longer resented strip clubs.

Sinking back down into his chair, he watched in silence, awestruck as he watched her move, observed the captivating way she owned the stage, how her eyes would trail over to his briefly throughout the act, and just for a split second he thought he could see something or someone different. In those stolen moment's she didn't seem like a character, and he didn't feel like a spectator, they were just two strangers, feeling those first sparks of a connection, as they caught each other's eyes from across the room.

Before he knew it, the music began to fade, as the three women made their way downstage for a bow, met with applause and loud cheers from the drunk party. The blonde and brunette made their way down the steps at either side of the stage, beginning to mingle among the men, while the redhead, Scarlet, as she had been introduced, turned to make her way into the wings, a move which had Harvey jolting out of his chair.

"Hey, where are you going?" one of Marcus' douchebag friends called after her, clearly as infatuated with her as Harvey was.

"Sorry boys," she replied with a smirk that rose goosebumps at the nape of Harvey's neck, she tapped at her wrist, "I'm off the clock, it's been fun though." He didn't miss the way she chanced a glance in his direction, before strutting off the stage.

The young lawyer collapsed back into his chair, slumping down in a sulk. Just as soon as she'd walked on to that stage, she seemed to have vanished, breaking that spell she cast over him and returning him to his previous poor mood.

He bids his farewells to the rest of the party, concocting a lie about an emergency client meeting first thing tomorrow morning, and leaving behind enough cash for two more rounds. The group doesn't protest, Marcus far too caught up in the excitement of the night and the blonde currently giving him a lap dance to care. So, he slinks away, heading towards the exit, when something stops him in his tracks.

A heavy door leading to what he suspects to be the backstage area of the venue opens only a crack with a heavy moan, a familiar face slipping through, now dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt, leather jacket slung over her shoulder. Her striking red hair pulled back in a half-up-half-down style that highlights the curve of her face. She's closing the door over again, delicately, as though afraid it may make another sound, although it would be barely audible over the blaring music. Taking a cautious glance back through where she came before and shutting it completely with a sigh. Her shoulders slumping with relief.

He's rooted to the spot, just as mesmerized by her now as he had been watching her perform, even in the most mundane of situations, he was captivated by her every move. It takes him a moment to catch up to reality, suddenly realizing she's headed for the exit, scrambling to follow her as she disappears onto the street.

He casts his eyes around frantically as he stumbles out into the night, catching sight of her across the deserted street. His feet carrying him in her direction without a thought as to how inappropriate this may seem.

"Hey!" He calls, succeeding in grabbing her attention, as she stops, turning with a look of surprise gracing her beautiful features, "Hi." He tries again, calmly this time, having caught up to her.

"Eh, hi, you're that guy.. from the bachelor party, right? The one sulking in the recliner at the back?" She quips, feigning confidence, though he body language tells a different story, she's slouching forward slightly, head bowed, a light flush of pink in her cheeks, nothing at all like the character he'd witnessed on stage.

"That's me," he chuckles, extending a hand, "My name's Harvey, and I presume yours isn't actually Scarlet?" He returns the favour with a jibe of his own.

"Donna," she introduces herself, taking his hand and shaking it, the brush of his fingertips against the palm of her hand as they pull apart stirring something strange up inside her, "nice to meet you, hope you enjoyed the show."

"I didn't think I was going to, but then you changed my mind." He replies, and she blinks in surprise, "And I was em, wondering, if you'd maybe let me take you for a drink? Spare me from spending the rest of the night with that group of assholes?"

"Listen pal, I don't know what movie you think you're currently living in, but I'm a stripper, not a hooker. And if you think you're the first to try that line on me you've got another thing coming." She bites, crossing her arms in disapproval, eyes narrowing.

"No - I well - that's not - I wasn't implying -" he stutters, genuinely taken aback by the accusation.

He's still stumbling when out of nowhere she doubles over in laughter, a bubbling sort of giggle that makes him smile despite the awkwardness of the situation.

Shit, pull it together Specter, you can't let yourself fall this fast.

"I'm just kidding, you don't for one second strike me as the kind of guy with those intentions, and believe me I've had multiple run-ins with the type," he frowns at the throwaway comment, her downplaying of something far more serious saddening him momentarily, before she catches her breath, still giggling, and continues, "I just wanted to see you squirm, and let me tell you, it didn't disappoint - the look on your face - it was priceless."

He shakes his head incredulously, "You're not just a pretty face, are you?"

She tucks a lose curl behind her ear, a shy smile so different to the one she'd worn on stage, spreading across her lips, "No, I'm not."

Their eyes meet, that same tension ignited between them as when they had looked each other's way for the first time that night. Her lips falling open at the intensity of him, how she suddenly felt as though she could fall into those dark brown eyes and remain happily lost in there forever.

Gathering herself, she clears her throat, ending the moment, "So, hot shot, how about those drinks?"

He takes her to one of his favourite bars, a small yet classy little corner of the city. He often frequented it back during his DA days, secretly hoping to impress her, and also thinking it to be the perfect spot for them, much more toned down, quiet and secluse, in comparison with the heavy, over bearing nature of the club they'd just left.

As they approach he notices her stop, staring up at the name of the bar with an amused smile on her face, "_Citizen_? I don't believe it! I used to waitress here, back when I first moved to the city!" she exclaims, grabbing his forearm.

The unexpected touch gaslights another set of sparks beneath his skin, equally as taken with how cute she is when she's excited like this, so different from the first version of her he'd laid eyes on, yet somehow, even more intriguing.

"It's one of my favourite places in town, although come to think of it, it's been quite some time since I last visited." he replies as he holds the door open, nodding his head to signal for her to go first, a small glimmer behind her eyes showing her appreciation.

The bar, while busy, is quiet and reserved as usual, customers scattered across the threshold at lowly lit tables, whispered conversations and breathy laughs creating a murmured score, combined with the smooth jazz that hummed through the old dusty speakers.

"I'd forgotten how peaceful it always was here," She says, scanning around the large room as they slip into a booth, "well, most of the time anyway – every so often we used to get a crowd of lawyers in here, from the DA's office, celebrating a big win or a new promotion, those nights were always more chaotic."

Harvey chokes out a laugh, "So our paths have crossed before," he says, his tone bordering on smug, "I may or may not have been one of those rowdy lawyers."

"Seriously?" She gapes, "Funny to think we may have spoken before."

"No, we definitely didn't," he confirms, and for a moment she looks disappointed, before, "There's no way I'd forget meeting someone like you."

Her breath hitches without permission, wetting her lips in an attempt to ground herself, "Someone like me?" she questions, not sure what she expects in answer.

He only nods, staring back at her with a perpetual longing, trying to keep up with every racing emotion. He's never experienced this before, this brand of infatuation, it's like she imprinted herself on him the moment their gazes met for the first time, a permanent mark that seems to buzz with life at every glance, every word, every touch.

They're interrupted before he can further explain, the waiter clearing his throat and presenting them with a bottle of red and two glasses, the pair thanking him quietly.

"You recognise any of the staff here?" he asks, trying to change the subject, suddenly feeling the heat of the direction their conversation was headed.

"No actually, but a lot of the others that I worked with here were in between jobs, or just using it as a start-off point to help them get on their feet, similar to myself." She explains.

"You said you worked here when you first came to the city, do you mind my asking what brought you here?"

"No not at all," She begins, taking a short sip of wine, "I'm an actress – well, trying to be – I moved here just after I finished my degree in Performing Arts at Yale, originally, I thought I'd head straight for the west coast, become a Hollywood star, but in college I just fell head over heels in love with theatre."

"I see." he nods along, genuinely interested, he can easily picture her on stage – not the small, musty one she'd performed on earlier that night, but a Broadway stage – big enough to house her personality and presence. Although he found himself saddened by the fact of her reality, wondering what led her to her current profession.

"So, New York seemed like the obvious place to start, but auditions have been few and far between – and that's only for small roles and minor productions. It's the type of industry where it's all about who you know, and unfortunately I don't have a lot of friends." There's a note of sadness in her tone, one which strikes a chord and a response his rolling off his tongue before he can think twice.

"Well, you've got me," he assures, "and I hate to break it to you but you're stuck with me now."

Donna laughs wholeheartedly, "You won't hear me complaining, Harvey." she smiles back at him, a watery smile, appreciating the promise more than he knows. If loneliness could kill, she wouldn't even be here to have this conversation, "It's strange that you can still feel so isolated and alone in a city this big."

He feels a pang of empathy that hits hard, he may have close allies within the working world, but he's never been good with relationships, both platonic and romantic, that sense of crowded loneliness, something he can relate to, "What about your family, don't you see them much?"

She shifts uneasily in her seat, deciding whether or not to tell the truth, but something about his presence seems to put her mind at rest, she doesn't feel nervous about opening up to him, as she usually does with others, so she lets the feeling flow, "My family don't approve of my current profession. I only got into this business because there just wasn't enough money in waitressing… I didn't tell them at first, but my sister decided one day that she was going to pay me a surprise visit, I had given her my address – I live in one of the apartments above the club – she happened to arrive on an evening that I was performing and well, I'm sure you can guess what happened. I haven't heard from her or my Mom since, my Dad calls from time to time, but it always ends in an argument, him trying to convince me to give it up and come home. But I just feel like I'd be giving up on my dream if I did, even though I'm not exactly living it now."

He sits for a few beats in stunned silence, before reaching for her hand and giving it a tight squeeze, "I'm sorry," he mumbles, not knowing what else say, understanding all too well that when it comes to family angst, sometimes all you need is someone to sympathize with you, "If it makes you feel any better, I haven't got the best relationship with my family either."

Donna frowns, her beautiful features distorted by curiosity as she returns the touch, her thumb brushing along back of his hand, then withdrawing, almost overwhelming to her, "How so?"

They talk for another hour or two, Harvey opening up about his father's recent passing, his tumultuous relationship with his mother and brother, and how exactly he ended up in the club at all. They share stories of their days since moving to the city, both happy and horrible moments, laughing and commiserating, falling into an easy rhythm in each other's company, a rise and fall melody which has them entranced, as minutes slip into hours.

It isn't long before they're the only ones left in the bar, late night melting into early morning as the lights beginning to flicker in signal of closing time, interrupting their trance and bringing them back to earth with a stab.

"Oh shit, I didn't realise how late it was, I should probably get going, my bo –" she stammers, correcting herself hurriedly, "the others will be wondering where I am." Her cheeks flush as she shrugs her jacket over her shoulders, seemingly flustered.

Harvey nods, unable to take his mind off her slip up, was she going to say boyfriend? He felt as though he'd just heard her life's story, yet she never mentioned a relationship. He tries to put the thoughts from his head as he stands to follow her outside.

"I'll walk you home." He offers.

"You really don't have to…" she protests, hoping he'll insist.

"I'd like to, I wouldn't want to leave you on your own."

Her heart swells at his consideration, and it feels like an age since anyone's been this kind to her, having grown accustomed to rude, pushy customers and colleagues who could be just as nasty.

"Thank you."

The majority of the short walk back to the club passes in silence, it's as though she'd closed in on herself. The closer they got to the club, the less she spoke, and the more her body language seemed to change, her shoulders curling in, her head bowed, hands fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt.

It doesn't sit right with him, the sudden change of attitude, thinking back to how agitated she'd seemed in the bar when she noticed the time. He spends a large portion of their journey debating whether or not to inquire about it, until they arrive, his chance lost, standing side by side across the street from where they started.

"Thanks again for tonight, it was really nice to get out and I loved talking to you." She says, turning to face him.

"I loved talking to you too, thanks for taking a chance on a sulky-customer." He jokes, and she almost laughs, her face suddenly falling as though the effort was too much.

"Can I give you my number?" he asks, fishing into his pocket for his card.

"Sure." She accepts the small piece of paper, their hands brushing once again.

There's an awkward pause, neither sure what to do or say next, Harvey not wanting to push her by leaning in for a hug or kiss, but also not sure how else to say goodbye.

She takes the reigns, placing a hand on her shoulder and reaching up to press a kiss against his cheek, it's a gentle caress, the brush of her lips against the stubble of his jaw so slight, yet throwing them both slightly off balance all at once.

"Well, goodnight." Harvey rasps, finding his voice suddenly hoarse.

"Yeah, goodnight…" She says quietly as she pulls away, glancing over her shoulder towards the club, she shifts her weight from foot to foot, wringing her hands, a nervous quality protruding from her, not yet moving away from him, despite having said goodbye, as though trying to delay their parting.

It doesn't sit right with him, her change in demeanour upon their walk back here, her current aura of anxiousness reminding him of how she'd seemed so tense as she'd exited the backstage area of the club earlier that night. He frowns, the question that'd been on the tip of his tongue earlier suddenly rising to the forefront of his mind again, and all at once she begins to turn, making to cross the street.

He catches her wrist gently, cuffing it with his hand, a loose grip to catch her attention. The tremble of her hand clear as he holds it, her skin slightly clammy.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, dipping his head down slightly to make eye contact, eyebrows furrowed as he scrutinizes her face.

Donna's eyes stare back at him wide and glazed over, finding herself overcome with that same urge to open up to him, tell him how much she wishes she never had to go back within those walls, or face the people that haunted that space. To admit it all, every difficulty she'd faced at the hands of that place and its patrons over the past couple of years.

Her lips part as though to speak, but before a sound can form –

"Donna?" a gruff voice calls from across the way, he feels her jump with a fright, whipping her hand away from his touch in the process, as both their heads swing round to locate the source of the sound.

"Where the hell have you been?" he's standing within the threshold of the side entrance, one hand braced against the door frame while the other is hooked in the unoccupied belt loop of his jeans.

Harvey finds himself puffing out his chest, standing an inch or two taller, ready to berate the stranger for speaking to her in that way, but before the argument rises within him, Donna is hurrying across the street, approaching the man who'd called her. Leaving Harvey both confused and frustrated, watching as she comes face to face with him, a hushed and brief conversation as she attempts to stand up for herself, before she's ducking beneath his arm and heading back inside, disappearing from view.

He doesn't get the chance to defend her, staring dumbfounded as the door is swung shut behind them.

**_Two Days Later…_**

The events of their night play on his mind endlessly over the next forty-eight hours, reliving their conversation, having absorbed every last drop of her, what she said, how she looked, every touch, even the slightest of brushes. However, he finds himself stuck, the way their evening ended weighing him down as he thinks it over for the umpteenth time that morning.

A part of him had been hurt by the abrupt and somewhat strange parting, that man who'd all but ordered her inside, the look on her face when she'd heard his voice flashing behind his eyes at the thought. But mostly he felt this heavy sense of worry, the whole interaction throwing him for a loop, trying to put two and two together – drawing from her change of attitude once they left the bar, her closed body language and shaky hands, how she'd seemed as though she wanted to delay her return for as long as possible, yet still felt the need to hurry back home. A protective urge rises in him, one he's never really felt for anyone outside of his immediate family before. As he begins to wonder was she okay last night, how would she have answered his question? Was her hesitancy a cry for help? Is she okay now?

Regret strikes him, wishing he'd asked for her number so he could call, rather than giving his that night.

Despite the fact that it's early on a Sunday morning, Harvey drags himself to the office, craving the distraction that work brings. Yet only after only half an hour of staring blankly at some documents for who knows what client – his phone buzzes to life. The sound of the vibration against the glass table startles him, sitting up right suddenly and knocking a stack of files to the ground. Ignoring the mess, he reaches for the phone, an unknown number flashing across the screen as he hastily swipes to answer.

"Harvey?" The sound of her hushed voice through the phone line makes his pulse quicken.

"Hey Donna, yeah it's me." He races through the reply, suddenly feeling unusually flustered.

"Hi…" she greets in a whisper, barely audible through the speaker, "I hope I'm not interrupting or anything." She sounds breathless, as though she called him in the spur of the moment.

"No, not at all, I was actually hoping you'd call."

"Really? I was just –" there's a pause, the sound of shuffling in the background, a muffled voice and then the closing of a door.

"Hello? You still there?" he calls, curious as to why she suddenly fell silent.

"Yes, sorry. Bad connection I think." He knows it's a lie, not in the least bit convinced.

"Is everything okay? I thought you seemed a bit off on Friday night after I walked you home."

There's another brief pause, and he's almost sure he can hear the wheels in her mind turning, deciding whether or not to tell him the truth.

"Not really… I was wondering if you were free… I'd really like to get out of here for a while." She gives a heaving sigh, as though relieved to have finally gotten out what she'd wanted to say.

"I can be there in twenty minutes." He assures her, already standing, brushing down the creases in his black V-neck sweater.

"Thank you." She breathes, "I'll meet you outside." And then she's hanging up, as he hurriedly leaves the office.

——————

Harvey gets there in fifteen, parking his car just the street from the side entrance she'd enter through last night. Glancing around he detects no trace of her, leaning back against the hood of the car and resigning himself to waiting. His patience lasts less than two minutes, his mind running away with a million different ideas as to what could be wrong. Before he can think it through his feet carry him to the door, trying the handle and by some twist of fate he finds it unlocked.

Stepping forward into a long hallway, he quietly shuts the door behind him, plunging himself into darkness, the corridor lit only by dim lamps that line the walls, casting an orangey glow around the space. He jumps at the sound of stifled voices, making his stomach flip as it dawns on him that he's intruding, the notion of how crazy he'll seem for just letting himself in driving him to turn back to the door. Without warning, a loud shout stops him dead in his tracks, the disturbance followed by more yelling, two voices raise at one another in the distance.

It's enough to make him turn, listening closely as he navigates his way up the stairs, trailing after the sound of the argument, straining to hear what's being said.

"You think you're something special don't you!" A male voice shouts, as Harvey comes to a stop just a few feet away from the room that he suspects the row is taking place, "Well, all you are is high class whore."

"You have no right to speak to me like that," his breath catches as he recognises Donna's voice, the slight waver in her high-pitched yell making his heart skip a beat and driving him closer to the door, "I could walk out of here, and what would you do then? You said it yourself, this place would be nothing without me."

He spots her through the slightly open door, sitting in a worn wooden chair with her leather jacket slung over the back, her face flushed with rage and if he's not mistaken, tear tracks running down her cheeks.

He gives a sinister chuckle, approaching her and coming into view, staring down at her, "I've heard all this before Donna, you don't have the balls to leave and you know it, and if you ever did you know exactly what would happen –" "Enough Ryan!" she suddenly cries, jumping from her seat and coming face to face with her boss, her limbs trembling, as Harvey holds his breath, "That's it, I'm done!"

She reaches behind her to grab the jacket, but Ryan reaches forward, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her flush against him, a yelp of pain slips out at the strength of the grip, her face turning to the side as she recoils from him.

"Let g-"

"Shut up, and sit the fuck down." He growls through gritted teeth, pushing her roughly back down into the chair, missing the seat and landing her on the ground, but just as he's about to speak again, the door swings open with a bang.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Harvey fumes, grabbing the asshole by the collar of his jacket and slamming him back against the far wall.

"Harvey!" Donna shrieks, but he won't turn, eyes fixed on Ryan.

"Ah so this is the guy you've been sneaking around with behind my back?"

"Don't talk to her like that." Harvey bites, with another shove against the wall, he glances over his shoulder, seeing her stagger to her feet, "Are you okay?"

Donna doesn't answer, a strange concoction of emotions wound tightly in her stomach, shame that Harvey saw what he did, anger at Ryan but also at Harvey for his intrusion, but mixed in is relief that he was there to intervene, remembering far too clearly what happened the last time Ryan had been this aggressive.

It all hits her at once.

How she'd wasted the last two years in this place, at the will of her boss and by association her customers. How she'd somehow lost herself. That any chance of her dreams coming true had faded away, despite her mantra that by remaining in New York she was giving herself the best chance. And now, she's let herself down again, relying on a man who she'd met in this Godforsaken place. Every last realisation seems to attack her from the inside out, and with as much courage as she can muster she turns on her heel and dodges out the door, thundering down the stairs and flinging the front door open, with no intention of ever returning.

She crosses the street, stopping on the side walk across the way and wrapping her arms across her chest, eyes screwed so tightly shut it hurts. The sound of the old door opening and closing behind her reaches her ears, and she flinches, knowing it'll be Harvey, part of her wanting to hide from him, part of her wanting to give herself completely.

"Hey," he greets gently, but she doesn't look up, she needs to distance herself, she shakes her head, "please, let me help you."

That's all it takes, because while she longs to resist the urge to lean on him, she doesn't have enough energy left to go on alone, drained by her years of isolation, of having no one. A slight nod of her head is all she gives, feeling his hand rest delicately on her shoulder, the hesitancy in the touch almost makes her smile, because she knows it's only a testament to how much he must care. He guides her to the car in silence, opening the door for her as she slips inside.

He doesn't say anything as he starts up the car, pulling out into the road before he's finally clearing his throat, "I know of a diner that does nice breakfasts, you feel like something to eat?"

She appreciates his choice not to press the subject of what just happened – not yet. Knowing they both are still reeling from the events that unfolded. However, the tears stinging in her eyes tell her that perhaps a restaurant isn't the best place to go, still feeling extremely overwhelmed and flustered.

"I'd rather not, I think I need some air, I'm just a bit – I feel kind of –" she stumbles to admit her feelings, hands beginning to shake again as she even contemplates the consequences of what just happened.

"Hey, it's alright," he reaches a hand over and grabs hers, giving it a small squeeze before returning to the steering wheel, "We can go to the park, I know a spot that's always nice and quiet at this time on a Sunday. Just try and relax, we'll figure this out." Donna exhales a soft cry at the kindness of his reassurance, "thank you Harvey, so much." She sniffles, unconsciously rubbing her upper arms, red marks put there by Ryan's rough grip beginning to burn angrily.

"You don't have to say thank you," he catches a glimpse of her feeling the sore marks, "Does it hurt?" he asks timidly.

"Only a little…" she replies unconvincingly as they pull up near the park, she shakily undoes her seatbelt, reaching to open her car door once parked, but he gets there first, pulling it open for her, a tight smile her only gesture of thanks.

They walk quietly for a while, Harvey noticing how she's crossed her arms tightly across her chest, as though to disguise the marks on her arms. Without asking, he removes his light jacket, placing it over her shoulders. She accepts without argument, visibly relaxing as she slips her hands through the sleeves. They stroll for another while before reaching a small bandstand at a lonely corner of the park, he points to a bench perched beneath it as much as to signal that this is the place he was talking about.

"So, are you ready to talk about it?" Harvey croaks, his voice unexpectedly choked.

"There's nothing to say, you saw…" she trails off, dipping her chin into her chest.

"Is he your boss?" he digs his finger nails into his trousers at the memory, trying to supress his instinct to fly off the handle at the way she's been treated.

Donna nods slowly, "It's a long story."

"I've got all the time in the world… _for you_." He adds with a second thought, watching as her eyes seem to brighten ever so slightly.

"He's my boss, he owns the club. When I first started working for him, he was so good to me, like a friend, and sometimes we'd flirt… anyway, I told him all my plans to become an actress, and he offered to hook me up with some of his connections in the industry, promised me this and that…" she shakes her head, giving a bitter laugh.

"We went out a few times, and he helped me out with money, gave me a loan and offered to rent a room to me above the club. I was naïve, I thought he cared about me, but the reality was that he saw how popular I was with the customers, how good I was behind the scenes – that place would've closed down by now had I not stepped in to help with the running of it – and he used me."

She pauses for a moment, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "But the problem was, I started to get restless, he wasn't making good on any of his promises to me, and as time went on he started to become more controlling and aggressive. He'd lose it if I went out somewhere without telling him – I tried to end it with him so many times, but he just won't accept it –" her voice was on a slow rise, as a cry caught in her throat, "He basically hasn't given me a choice but to stick around, I still owe him money, and he'll never pay me enough to pay him back, I have nowhere to go, and I'm just so terrified of h-" she falls apart, unable to continue, and without a second thought his arms are around her, pulling her into his side and holding her close as she sobs.

When the cries begin to soften, he finally dares to speak, "Has he em – has he hurt you before, like today?" the question is softly spoken.

He feels her nod against his chest, and a roaring rage rises inside him, so loud he imagine she can hear it vibrating through his bones.

"I haven't wanted to be with him in a very long time, in fact – I never wanted to, he manipulated me, and he holds it all over my head to this day... if I refuse to – to sleep with him, he gets aggressive, so most of the time I just go along with what he wants, because I'm afraid of what would happen if I didn't." The admission sits heavy in the space between.

"Jesus, Donna," he breathes, brushing a hand through her hair, "there's no way you're going back there."

"I have to."

"No, absolutely not, I'll pay for a hotel room for you, or you can stay in my guest room but you are not going anywhere near –" She snaps away from his hold suddenly, retracting herself from his touch and standing, "Harvey, I appreciate your concern but this is nothing to do with you, I can't –"

"Why can't you?" he presses, standing to follow her as she walks away, "Donna, I care about you, I may only just have met you, but I do care, more than I've ever cared for anyone in my life."

His words catch her off guard, stopping her in her tracks.

"I don't want to lose you, okay?" he says, catching up to her and standing just behind, holding his breath as he awaits her response.

"Harvey I've never felt so close to someone after such a short period of time but…" she turns her head, looking back over her shoulder, "I just can't bring myself to trust another man who promises me the world."

His shoulders slump at the heart-breaking revelation and it's all it takes for her to know he understands. The intensity of their stare triggers a landslide of emotions within her, this connection they seem to have formed from such little time in each other's company is so new yet feels ancient, as though it already existed, set out for them long before they even knew what love was. It sometimes feels as though they're seeing themselves reflected back in the other's gaze.

He's more myself than I am.

The old quote from a favourite classic of hers rings out like a mournful note in her mind, and she knows he feels the same. They see something that belongs to them in the other, a magnetic pull attracting them only to reject the connection at close contact. She wants him, and she knows he wants her too, but she's too wounded to trust him, no matter how much she longs to enjoy the shock of that fall. She starts forward, forcing herself to take every step.

"Wait," he's calling and she stops, unable to resist the temptation of him, "You have my number from the card, the one I gave you also has my work and home address, so please, if you need me just –"

She's flinging her arms around him before he can finish, hooking them around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace, face buried in the crook of his shoulder, and it takes him a moment to respond, but when he does, there's a certainty in her that she's never been held like this before, never experienced this brand of adrenaline that shoots straight to the heart, not the head.

"I don't want to," Donna begins, her words spoken in a soft whisper as she leans back, "but I have to go."

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his hand run through the red locks to the end, "Donna, I'm in so deep here, I think I – I lo-" he stops short, not wanting to pressure or frighten her, but she's hanging off his every word, wishing he'd keep talking, yet silently begging him to stop, "Don't do this to me, I need you."

"Need?" she squeaks, allowing her heart to go there for a moment.

"_Need_."

"I'm sorry Harvey, maybe someday this will be right, and I wish I could but – I'm sorry." And then she's turning, hurrying away before he can draw breath to reply, and leaving him, heart wide open, without her to share it with.

**XXX**

**Heyyyy! Hope you liked this first installment, chapter is already written and will be posted around the same time tomorrow.**

**P.s I haven't forgotten about Push and Pull or Don't, they'll be getting the much needed attention they deserve shortly x**

**Please let me know what you think and what you think might happen next...**


	2. Chapter 2

_Heyyyy, welcome to part 2! Thanks for all the lovely reviews so far!_

_Warning: this half of the story touches on some possibly triggering themes, (nothing graphic) but you've been warned._

**_——————_**

_**Four days later…**_

He hasn't heard from her since she fled the park and to say he's under performing at work would be an understatement. It's strange, how less than a week ago he'd been dreading that obligatory pilgrimage to the strip club, not realising the change it would make to him on such a personal level. He can't function for lack of her, he can't sleep soundly for uncertainty as to whether she's safe, he can't concentrate when everything reminds him of her, and he definitely can't go on this way for much longer.

He trudges through the front door of his penthouse apartment, dropping his suit jacket to the floor and loosening the tie encasing his neck. Passing the kitchen without a second glance, the cause of his absence of appetite obvious and yet another side effect of her. He collapses onto his bed, spread eagle on his stomach, an exhaustion caused by days thinking only of her, tossing and turning every night while checking his phone at intervals. Somehow, he manages to slip into a light sleep, the blood-red sky of dusk turning a deep navy as he dozes, the evening slipping away from him and melting into another lonely night.

Until suddenly he hears it.

One of the sounds he'd been on alert for since the moment she'd walked away.

A sharp series of frantic knocks at the panel of his door, jolting him from his slumber and into a confused half consciousness that he's half convinced is a dream, hurtling himself in the direction of the entrance, head spinning from the sudden awakening.

He nearly pulls the door off its hinges when he finally undoes the lock, throwing it open to reveal her.

The first thing he notices is that she'd wearing his coat, the one he'd loaned to her in the park, it's draped over her shoulders, arms not within the sleeves, covering her top half. She's wearing a 'costume' a navy-blue slip dress that could only be from part of an act. As his eyes travel up her body he's suddenly struck with the realisation that she's trembling like a leaf, knees nearly knocking as one hand grips the door frame for support. There are tear tracks cutting through the heavy make-up, streaming through the glitter on her face.

He only truly becomes grounded in the moment when he notices the small cut just beneath her eye, driving him to scan the rest of her with urgency, a dark pattern of shadowy bruising on the exposed parts of her chest and shoulders, and bleeding graze on both her knees.

He's locked in a stunned silence, logic willing him to do something but shock rendering him still, gaping at her unable to form a coherent thought or sentence, never mind help.

"Harvey, you were right, I'm s-sorry." She says in an unsteady tone, her eyes filling with a fresh set of tears, a wave of shame washing over her.

"Christ, Donna, come in." he steps aside, finally finding his voice, the distressed sound of hers booting him into action. She hobbles forward, clearly trying to disguise her shaking as she follows him to the living area, he takes another look at her dishevelled state, beginning to ramble in panic, "Sit down, what happened? Are you okay? Sorry – that's a stupid question you're clearly n-"

"Harvey, slow down." She soothes, placing a shaky hand over his wrist to calm his frantic movements, and it seems so backwards, that while she may be in need she has this instinct to comfort him, the notion seeming so natural to her. A slight tug is all it takes from her to guide him towards the sofa, both of them easing down into the leather.

There's silence for a moment as they both take time to compose themselves, taking in the strangeness yet familiarity of the situation, sitting side by side in his home.

Catching his breath, he finally speaks again, "The first aid kit – it's just in the cupboard." He mumbles, rushing over the kitchen before returning to her side, undoing the buckles and rooting through it, "Can you tell me what happened?" his question is much gentler this time around, his voice smooth with underlying concern.

She tenses at the inevitable inquiry, shuffling in place and taking an antiseptic wipe from him to clean the scrapes to her knees.

Her silence is telling so he tries a different approach, hoping for at least a yes or no from her, "Was it him?"

There's a hesitation there before she nods, although he could have guessed as much, the confirmation still makes him heady with rage.

"Another argument?"

"Of sorts." She whispers, hissing when he dabs some cream onto the small cuts. The ambiguity in her answer grates on him.

"What do you mean?" it comes out as more of a snap than intended, frustration shining through and overshadowing its cause – being his concern for her safety. So, he frowns when she winces at the remark, recoiling into herself.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come." There's a waver present in her voice that tells him she's on the verge of tears, so he takes her hand delicately, urging her to stay with him, both physically and emotionally.

"_Donna_."

It does things to her, that specially branded way he says her name, how it can mean everything and nothing all at once.

"I'm scared." She whispers.

"Of him? Because I promise I won't let –"

"_No_," she stops his train of thought, "Of telling you. I'm scared of opening up."

It's a feeling he can relate to and his hand travels from hers to the expanse of her lower back, tracing a soothing trail up the length of her spine.

"It's okay," he breathes, feeling her lean towards him under the pull of his touch, "Just tell me, you know I care."

"He barely spoke to me since the incident on Sunday," she murmurs, her head tilted back against the headrest of the chair and her eyes cast to the ceiling as though the events of the last few days were on display there, "Then tonight…" Her next intake of breath is almost like a gasp, her chest rising in an erratic movement, "He came into my dressing room and tried to act like nothing was wrong," she continues, "But I wasn't playing along, so he started to turn more aggressive."

It's Harvey's turn to take a steadying breath, moving closer to her as a silent sign of support.

"He wanted… " she pauses, unable to bare rehashing the details and opting for a shorter way out, "Long story short, he wanted to have sex with me, and when I said no… I'm sure you can guess what I'm implying." She finishes curtly, as though this weren't a big deal at all.

"Donna, I – " he's stumped by her casual tone, staring incredulously at her, "Did he -?"

"_**No**_," she states abruptly, "I stopped him, hence…" she gestures to injuries, before slumping back in the seat, and while clearly upset she's doing her best to mask it.

"I'm so sorry, you must've been so scared –" A shrill laugh is the reply that meets his concern, "Harvey, I work in a strip club, I deal with unwanted advances more often than I'd care to admit, it's not a huge deal, but I couldn't stay there, _he's_ not the same as some handsy customer." Donna huffs out a sigh, she knows it's not right but men treating her like shit is something she'd become accustomed to, yet every attack on her innocence still managed to leave its hidden mark beneath the surface.

He shakes his head, saddened by her normalising of the way she's been treated, "Don," he coaxes her to look at him, unwilling to let this slide, "Look at me, what happened isn't okay – and the way him and these other men have treated you is wrong, do you understand that? You're worth so much more than this."

A whimper catches in her throat despite her best efforts to stop it, she'd never allowed herself to think too deeply into any of these instances, knowing to do so could be a dangerous game to play. But having someone like Harvey, a man whom she's grown to trust over such a short period of time, tell her she deserves better – it hits a sore nerve, and her eyes are swelling with tears she didn't know she needed to cry.

He sits with her while she cries, saying nothing but not needing to. His presence enough reassurance to her, and all she's ever wanted. To have someone, friend or more sit by her side through the difficult times, to tell her what she needed to hear and pick up the pieces when she falls apart.

He's all she's longed for rolled up in one.

As she begins to calm, he moves to clean the cut beneath her eye, gently swiping the remnants of moister from her lashes as he works. He murmurs something about making up the spare bed, coaxing her to follow.

"You take my bed, the pull-out couch isn't comfortable, and you need the sleep more than I do," he reasons, riffling through his shelves for a sweater and a pair of boxer shorts, not wanting her to have to stay trapped in that costume, "I'll get you a glass of water, are you hungry?"

She shakes her head no as he leaves her to change, returning to find her perched on the opposite side of the bed from which he usually favours. He hands the glass to her and she thanks him with a watery smile, taking a sip before placing it down.

"Do you feel tired?" he asks, sitting next to her.

"Exhausted."

He nods, beginning to feel the pull of tiredness himself, knowing she's here and safe somewhat lulling him back into a sense of security that allows for sound sleeping.

Harvey rises from his spot, "I'll let you get to bed then, but if you need anything –"

"Will you stay?" she blurts out the request and it shocks her just as much as it does him, wanting him to stay because while she's never experienced care like this, it's suddenly all she craves, like someone deprived of water, never wanting to be far from it again.

"Of course," his tone doesn't portray his surprise, instead he crawls to the other side settling his head on the pillow facing her as she lies back, her movements still slightly unsteady, "You know you're safe here, with me, don't you?" "Yes, I'm just a little shaken still…" Donna admits, lying opposite him with her face turned to his.

"And you know, no matter how I feel about you, I'd never push anything on you, I just want to be here for you." He knows she's aware but needs to make sure especially considering her past with men.

His remark catches her off guard, the thoughtfulness of the reassurance throwing her for a loop and flooding her with a sensation she can't remember the last time she experienced. There's been so many unkind men in her life, women too – that moments like this seemed lost in fiction or day dreams, never to be lived through.

"I do." She says breathily, doe eyed in the darkness of the bedroom, "Could you…" she thinks better of the request, trailing off.

"What is it?" he asks, more than eager to do anything for her.

"No, nothing, it's silly."

"If it'll make you feel better, then it's definitely not silly." He smirks, raising his eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the tone of conversation.

"Could you hold me?" her voice is barely above a whisper, the words nothing but a small squeak, but he doesn't bother to answer, shuffling closer to her as she mirrors him, until she's slipping into crook of his shoulder, head resting along his chest as his arm hooks around her body, he can feel her shallow breathing as her body moves against his.

"Try to get some rest." He encourages, drawing a lazy pattern up and down her arm.

To most others, their current situation may have seemed like an impossibly difficult and awkward one. Fraught with sexual tension and longing to go further. And while those feelings were there, they didn't dominate. It was something that confused them both, how they were content to give into each other's needs in other ways that some may say are even more intimate than the conventional means.

A stillness comes to settle over the pair, as their minds continue to roar on, both believing the other to be asleep after a short period of time. Harvey's eyes start to droop soon enough, his brain still working as he dozes off, when out of the quiet –

"He's done it before."

He feels her body stiffen alongside his, her fingers digging lightly into the material of his t-shirt. Almost sure he knows what she means yet not wanting to believe it to be true, he doesn't reply or push her, pulling her closer to him instead a sign of strength, when unexpectedly she speaks again.

"And I haven't always been able to stop him."

"Donna." He sighs, overcome by her revelation.

"Why did I let him treat me like that." She whines, curling into a ball at his side.

"Listen to me," he urges, watching her unravel before him and feeling helpless as to how to slow her, "This has nothing to do with what you did or didn't do, okay? He took advantage of his position above you, he is in the wrong here, not you. Do you hear me?" he's stern in his advice, but it's what she needs to hear.

She peeks up at him, revealing her face but she's not crying, and the fact only unnerves him further. She feels as though she's past the point of tears, wanting only to move away from this part of her life, while also knowing her experiences are not something you can bury and be done with. However, this way of opening up is what frightens her, feeling a rush of relief crossed with fear in her veins as he attempts to comfort her.

"You don't know how much you mean to me." The sentiment tumbles from her lips, as a hand reaches out to trace the contours of his jaw.

Looking back at her now that growing feeling of closeness seems to come to a head, an inexplicable need to keep her near him at all times overwhelming him as he pulls her close again, burying his face in her hair.

"Actually, I think I do."

Donna gives a small breathy laugh, the only comfort she craves is his company, yet he feels this incessant need to do more.

"I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, so you don't ever have to feel scared like that again, okay?"

She feels completely submerged in his care, almost drowning in the kindness of his words, but if this is what faith feels like, she's never coming up for air again.

"Why?" the question is hushed, yet seems to echo in the silence of the room.

"You know why." He mumbles, and she's certain she can feel his temperature rise beneath her.

He gives a sigh at her silence, deciding that no matter how irrational it may seem, she needs to hear it, and he needs her to know it.

"You know I love you Donna."

He doesn't receive a reply, stunning her into a head spinning quiet that isn't broken until they're both lightly snoring, sleeping peacefully for the first time in too long in each other's arms.

**_Two days later…_**

This was the moment he'd spent the better part of the last forty-eight hours preparing for. He stalled on bated breath outside the back entrance to the strip club where this whirlwind of a journey began, rehearsing in his head, something he often did before a take-down but would never admit to.

He hadn't told Donna, of course. Knowing she'd try to stop him, although she'd been less than half her usual self, something he'd noticed while she'd been staying with him. An arrangement she'd tried to protest to, having woken the following morning ashamed and embarrassed, ready to return to the club, which, as far as he was concerned, wasn't an option. Taking a centring breath, he opened the door, always unlocked. Following the path he remembers from his last encounter with this club.

He hears a conversation coming from the office room he'd last found Donna arguing with her boss in. Recognising the sound of Ryan's voice and picking up the pace as he approaches. The conversation seems to be one sided, and it's only then that he realizes the man behind to door must be on the phone.

"…Yeah well I don't give a shit, she's been MIA for the past couple of days and the regulars are starting to ask questions – no it's not that I can't run this place without her it's just – " he goes quiet for a few moments breathing heavily down the phone line, as the murmured voice on the other end hums dimly in the silence of the room.

Ryan gives an agitated sigh, "I swear to God when I get my hands on her –"

"Finish that sentence." Harvey fumes, abruptly entering the room and almost winding the other man, he drops the phone, standing from his chair as he gathers himself, "Finish it, I dare you." "What the fuck do you want?" The slender man leers, attempting to act unintimidated but failing miserably.

"This," Harvey begins, as he drops the first of many files on the asshole's desk, "Is a letter for your resignation to your superior, whom I presume you just got off the phone with, now before you tie yourself up in knots, let me explain exactly why you're going to sign it." One by one he slides folders onto the desk, calmly, a small smirk of satisfaction threatening to crack his steely demeanour, "Consider this a brief history of every shady thing you've ever done, including but not limited to tax evasion, drug possession and the mistreatment of employees… so here's what's going to happen." Harvey leans his two palms flat down on the wooden surface, staring his opponent down as he glares back with a mixture of fear and hatred.

"I'll give you two choices," he says quietly although his voice is laced with a fiery aggression, "One, you don't sign that letter, and I take you to court over every single offence you've ever committed, and I'm not sure if you've heard, but I don't lose." He pauses for a moment to watch him stew, relishing the revenge he's taking on Donna's behalf, "Two, you sign that letter and make yourself scarce, in which case all of this disappears - unless, of course you ever attempt to contact, approach or even come anywhere near Donna Paulsen again, if you do… I'm sure you can put two and two together."

There's an eerie silence that settles over the room as the offers sink in, although Harvey's almost certain he can feel the adrenaline buzzing beneath his skin.

"What's it going to be?"

There's a moment of hesitation in which Ryan eyes the folders, sweat breaking out on his forehead, and suddenly he's reaching for a pen, filling out the required spaces on the resignation letter.

"Good choice." Harvey scoffs while gathering the files, turning on his heel as he pulls the door open confidently.

"And Ryan," he calls, watching as the older man runs a hand through his greasy hair, "You ever so much as look her way again and prison will be the last thing you'll have to worry about."

And with that he's slamming the door behind him, exiting the club for what he knows will be the last time, and feeling a renewed sense of self at the thought of finally freeing Donna from her past.

—————

She finds him in a lonely booth at the back of the diner. Smirking into his coffee cup, a flutter of wings in her stomach triggered almost every time she lays eyes on him. Donna had been surprised when he'd text to ask her out for coffee, considering they'd woken up in the same apartment that morning and would see one another again that evening, meeting during the day seemed peculiar to her, the notion that someone would want to spend that much time in her company was foreign.

She'd agreed to stay with him until she could find another job or gather together enough money to rent someplace else, refusing his offer to help her get started, no matter how she felt about him, the strong-willed woman stood her ground, vowing never to take financial aid from others again after her situation with Ryan.

"Harvey," she greets as she slides over the red leather chair across from him, "Long-time no see." She jokes.

"What can I say, I have attachment issues." He jibes back.

"So, what was so important that it couldn't wait until tonight?" she asks nervously, he notices how she wrings her hands stiffly.

"It's good news," he assures, "You won't have to worry about Ryan any more, he's out of the picture." She responds with an incredulous chuckle, "What'd you do? Hire a hit man?"

"I don't need a hitman to do my work for me," he says puffing out his chest sarcastically, "No – I did things my way, I dug into his past, turns out he's a fairly shady guy… you don't need to know the details, but long story short, he's not going to be working there anymore, and if he knows what's good for him, he'll be staying away from you." Donna can only stare back, stunned by the lengths he was willing to go to in order to help her. Her mind floods with every memory of him that she's so neatly collected in her subconscious over the past week or so, overcome by an insurmountable sense of gratitude and adoration – no not adoration –

_**"You know I love you, Donna."**_

She'd wracked her brain to find her response, expecting find it hidden in the deepest crevices of her mind, yet here it was, plain and simple. She loves him, for every reason and for none at all. It may be rash, or naïve but she's been those things before and this isn't that.

Tears are welling in her eyes as she struggles to put a coherent sentence together.

"There's something else, I also got in contact with a talent agency who just so happen to be willing to meet with you and see if they want to take you on. It's not much, but it's the best I could do and it's a start." "Harvey, if anything, this is too much, I can't believe you've done all this for me –" "Just wait, let me finish, because I need to make something clear," He asks of her, rolling his shoulders back to release the tension, "I don't want to lose you, Donna. But I'm not like those other men you would've met through the club, or your boss, and I'm not looking to manipulate you into going out with me… however, I do have feelings for you, I care a lot about you, and while I'm not necessarily expecting a date, I'd really like it if we could stay friends. I need you in my life in some shape or form, I feel different since I met you and I like the man I am around you." She sits back, taking a moment to soak up what he's saying before finally answering, "That's a shame," she sighs dramatically, "Because I had my eye on this restaurant called Del Posto and I was hoping you could get a reservation for us some time…" she quirks an eyebrow at him, watching as his face lights up, before she carefully slides out of her seat turning to go in a teasing matter, "But I guess if you just want to be friends, I can live with that." She pouts sarcastically as he shakes his head with a grin, boosting himself out of booth to follow her through the exit and on to the street.

Following her out onto the bright morning bustle of the street, he catches her wrist to grab her attention, almost laughing at the faux look of surprise she casts him, no doubt a clever quip on the tip of her tongue, but he doesn't give her the chance. Crashing his lips down on hers as his arms move just below her waist, pulling her closer. It takes a second for her to catch up, but once she does her hands are on the nape of his neck, smoothing her fingers over the soft hair at the back of his head and inviting him nearer, having never wanted to feel closer to someone in all her life.

They pull back after what feels like seconds but in reality amounts to much longer, breathing heavily as they mirror each other's grins.

"That settles that then." He laughs, stroking a strand of hair out of her face.

"Well there's one more loose end that needs tying up," She exhales, cupping his jaw in her hands, "I love you too Harvey."

And before she knows it he's kissing her again, both losing and finding themselves within their shared intimacy, feeling as though they've never been without each other, and praying that they never will be again.

**The end.**

**XXX**

**Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing, I love to hear your thoughts! Hope you enjoyed this story and the second installment lived up to expectations!**

**Much love xx**


End file.
